


This boy, half-destroyed

by haemodye



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Coming Out, Date Auction, Date Raffle, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Holiday Raffle, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Queer Themes, Schmoop, Superhusbands, Superhusbands (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemodye/pseuds/haemodye
Summary: It was legal, now, and it wasn’t even that controversial. Steve didn’t know what he was waiting for. It wasn’t like Tony would have stopped him, if he wanted to come out. He was sure Tony would love the chance to brag about him.A date raffle, a closeted Avenger, and a gold ring all find themselves at the Stark Industries Annual Holiday Party.What could possibly go wrong?





	This boy, half-destroyed

**Author's Note:**

> Steve's having a rough holiday season.
> 
> Warnings: explicit sexual content, homophobia, discussions of homophobic language

 

>                                        _We are not dirty,_ he keeps saying.  _We are not dirty…_  
>                     They want you to love the whole damn world but you won’t,  
>  you want it all narrowed down to one fleshy man in the bath,  
>                                         who knows what to do with his body, with his hands.
> 
>                    —      [Richard Siken](http://figuratives.tumblr.com/post/12069209049/driving-not-washing)

 

The worst, Steve knew from experience, were the moments where he just…forgot.

He’d be doing something normal. Eating cereal. Going for a run. Training in the gym, or washing a mug out, or petting a stranger’s dog. Then, suddenly, something would remind him; the glint of metal off of a passing CitiBike wheel, or a statue of lovers embracing in a fountain glimpsed through the black wrought-iron gates of some Park Avenue courtyard, or even the sound of church bells. Once, Tony had come into the kitchen, offered him a chaste morning peck, then bent down to tie the laces on one of the many pairs of garish, ugly, horrifically overpriced sneakers he wore far too often. The sight of Tony bent on one knee had sent Steve into a paroxysm of joy for one fleeting second, quickly followed by terror, then spine-locking embarrassment when he’d realized what Tony was actually doing. By the time Tony had straightened up, Steve had managed to get ahold of himself, but he’d completely overcooked the egg he’d been trying to fry. For once, he was the one ducking out, claiming to be busy while actually avoiding Tony. He was eternally thankful that Tony hadn’t noticed and called him out on it, partially because he knew how hurt Tony would be, but also because he didn’t know what he would say, yet. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about it, even if his mind was stuck, playing back the same line over and over and over like a broken record.

Tony hadn’t meant anything by it. They’d been together for the better part of two years now, and he hadn’t pushed it once. It was Steve’s choice, he always said. Tony didn’t care, but even if he did, he couldn’t control Steve if he wanted to keep his private life private. Tony loved him, and everyone who mattered already knew. Steve knew all the lines, could play them back six, ten, twelve times over. They’d had the conversation more times than he could count. But now, Steve wondered. He wanted. He imagined.

He didn’t know if it made him selfish or brave.

—

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Tony had said.

His tone was dismissive, but it was his eyes that always got to Steve. The real reason that Tony wore sunglasses everywhere was that his eyes were so damn expressive, the last bit of humanity that Howard Stark’s PR professionals hadn’t been able to train out of him. When he was excited and curious they glittered beautifully, deep as polished agate. This, however, Steve wished he saw less often; the quiet, frantic fear of rejection, a bracing for pain that shuttered his eyes, lashes a sooty curtain that made them look almost black. It was a shade of Tony’s expression that he associated strongly with pleasure, and to see it twisted into fear curled a special kind of fury deep in his gut. Sometimes, the part of Steve that had fought what had felt like every bully in New York wished so badly to go back and find Tony’s torturers, to beat them until his knuckles split on their teeth. He wouldn’t, now. He was Captain America, after all. But he wanted to. My god, he wanted to.

“Sweetheart,” Steve said, gently as he could manage it, “I don’t think I’ve got anything to worry about. Some stuffy paper pusher who never sees the light of day couldn’t do this, for one.”

And then he picked Tony up and hoisted him so that his legs curled around Steve’s waist. The expression of delight on Tony’s face was dangerous. Steve would do a lot of things for that face, but for now he leaned in to kiss Tony as sweetly as he knew how.

“We’ve done this every year, Shellhead,” Steve reminded him. “Natasha even did it, two years ago, remember?”

“Sure, but the last time _I_ was the one who did it was four years ago, and we weren’t together then,” Tony said stubbornly. In defiance to his words, his arms had wound themselves around Steve’s neck, nails scraping gently at the short hairs at the back of Steve’s neck.

“Thor did it last year, and he and Jane are married.” Steve grinned.

“Jane is disgustingly assured for a mortal scientist involved with an actual mythological warrior god.”

“Maybe she’s so assured because they’re married,” Steve mused.

“Is that a hint?”

“You tell me.”

“ _Please_ ,” Tony snorted. “We’re not even out.”

Steve grinned. “Well, are you a mortal scientist that needs assuring?” he asked. “Because, you know, I can hold you like this for a long, _long_ time…”

“No, you- you’re Jane, in this comparison, okay?” Tony said, squirming in his vehemence, and Steve just wanted to press him up against the wall of the gym and kiss him breathless. He settled for tumbling them to the mats instead, pinning Tony with his weight and pressing kisses all up his neck, his jaw, his brow. “Stop trying to distract me with sex.”

“Am I not disgustingly assured for a poor kid from the tenements dating a suave, gorgeous, super-genius, multi-billionaire?” Steve asked, biting playfully at Tony’s ear. He was rewarded with a quiet gasp, Tony’s hands clenching deliciously in his hair. “It’s just a fun raffle, a thank you for all the employees who put up with working in the tower after we made it a target for every supervillain in the nine realms. Just this month, nearly half of the building was magically lulled to sleep.”

“Yeah, and they got paid to nap for five hours while we fought Morgan Le Fay. Do you know what hazard pay for almost five thousand employees costs me?”

“Apparently, letting yourself be auctioned off for an innocent date on the town with some lucky SI employee,” Steve answered, grinning. He knew SI didn’t really offer hazard pay, anyway. Everybody wanted to work in Avengers Tower. He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw. “You know you’re actually trying to argue me into being mad at you, right? Has your genius brain registered that bit yet? Or do you love arguing so much that you didn’t notice?”

“Rude!’ Tony crowed, but he melted satisfyingly into Steve’s embrace when Steve took one of the tendons of his neck between his teeth and pressed down, softly. “Oh.”

“Roleplay,” Steve said, encouraging now. He slid his hands up Tony’s stomach, slow, dragging his sweat-soaked t-shirt with him. “Let’s pretend that I was jealous, and you appeased me by telling me how handsome I am, and now we’ve skipped to the makeup sex.”

“I-” Tony croaked, and the absolutely delicious way his stomach clenched as he leaned up to let Steve pull his shirt off had Steve’s head spinning with want. He leaned down, lining Tony’s abs with his tongue, pressing between the swells of muscle and licking all the salt from his skin. “ _Steve_.”

“Yeah,” Steve rasped. “I’m very jealous, and I need to claim you as mine. Now.”

“Fuck,” Tony said, and Steve chuckled low. Sometimes, he thought this just might be his favourite thing in the world; Tony, weak and panting under him, that beautiful brain of his focussed on Steve and what he could do with his tongue, his lips, his fingers. “I-…”

“Shh,” Steve murmured, mouthing sweetly over the line of hair that trailed down to Tony’s waistband. He trailed over the sensitive ridge of Tony’s hips, smiling when he bucked up into him, and tucked his fingers into Tony’s waistband. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” Tony panted, lifting his hips, and Steve pressed a small kiss to his belly in silent thanks. He pulled Tony’s sweatpants and briefs off in one smooth motion, then swooped back down to nose gently at the side of Tony’s cock. “Steve.”

Steve glanced up through his eyelashes, smiling when he was rewarded with the sight of Tony’s beautiful eyes half-lidded and desperate, so dark with desire they looked black all around, both pupil and retina. “You’re mine,” he growled playfully, but both he and Tony knew he wasn’t really kidding. Then he dipped his head, and swallowed Tony down.

The sound Tony made above him was nearly pained, and Steve hummed in quiet pleasure at hearing it. Tony arched off the mat at that, and Steve hooked an arm each under Tony’s thighs, curling over the tops to splay his fingers across Tony’s hips. He knew Tony’s hipbones were sensitive, and his engineer loved to be held down like this. It helped him to feel like Steve was taking what he wanted, and what he wanted was Tony; nothing more, nothing less. For years, Tony’s long string of casual sexual partners had been there for the wild ride they were promised in the papers. Steve wasn’t going to lie, Tony was…skilled. God, who was he kidding, Tony was fucking incredible in bed. But sometimes, Tony needed to know that all Steve wanted was to pin him down and watch him come undone. He might not have been quite as experienced as Tony, but he made up for that with stamina and enthusiasm, and he had yet to hear Tony complain once.

Right now, Tony was panting above him, a steady stream of curses interspersed with adoring renditions of Steve’s name. If he was a different kind of man, he might even call them worshipful, but he wasn’t. He did, however, let himself feel a little smug. Sure, maybe being able to hold his breath for extended periods of time because of the serum was cheating a little, but Steve had never claimed to be above cheating a little to get what he wanted. And he wanted this, badly. He wanted the weight of Tony on his tongue, the smell of him, the way he squirmed and begged beneath him. He wanted the way Tony’s body flexed beneath his hands, increasingly frenzied as Steve bobbed up and down, Tony’s cock slipping into the back of his throat, the bittersweet musk of him on his tongue.

“Steve, I’m close,” Tony gasped, and Steve rumbled his displeasure. He wasn’t done with Tony yet. “Fuck, baby, I can’t, I _can’t_.”

So Steve pulled back, moaning low and deep as he did, and swirled his tongue under the head of Tony’s cock in the way that always made him keen. Tony’s fingers pushed into his hair, grabbing hold as his cock began to pulse on Steve’s tongue, and he groaned in soft appreciation as Tony came in his mouth, swallowing him down. He reached a hand down into his sweats, wrapping one hand around his own dripping cock to give it a few strokes as Tony shook apart underneath him, thighs trembling from the effort as he gasped. When Steve glanced back up at him, still suckling gently at his cock, his eyes were wild, mouth red and shining and open. He looked decadent, and Steve just wanted to devour him.

“Steve,” Tony panted, scrabbling weakly at his shoulder, and Steve pulled off with an obscene, wet sound that made him shiver, his cock twitching in his hand. “Fuck, come here.”

“Stay,” Steve said instead, reaching a hand up to keep Tony in place as he held him down just under the reactor. He pushed his own pants down with one hand, pulling his cock out and beginning to stroke it roughly while his eyes roamed over Tony’s naked, heaving body.

“Oh, fuck,” Tony said faintly, watching him with wide eyes. “Kiss me.”

Steve crawled up obediently and took Tony’s mouth in a claiming kiss, sweeping his tongue in to tease out Tony’s. The noise Tony made was nothing short of utter satisfaction, and Steve moaned quietly into Tony’s mouth at the sound of it, fucking his fist properly now.

“Not gonna let me take care of you?” Tony spoke against his mouth, lips catching tantalisingly against Steve’s. His short nails dragged down Steve’s scalp, the nape of his neck, and he shivered in Tony’s arms.

“I’m staking my claim, remember?” Steve panted. He dipped his head, sucking a brutal, visible mark high enough on Tony’s neck that he’d have to cover it with makeup to prevent it from being seen. He’d probably regret that later, but for now Tony sighed like a song and curled up into him like he’d never felt anything better, and that alone was enough to bring him to the edge. He pulled back, eyes fighting to stay open as he bit his lip and stared down at Tony, working his cock and sweeping a possessive gaze over miles of lovely, tanned olive skin.

“Gonna paint me with your come?” Tony murmured, dark eyes wicked, and that was it for Steve. He fell forward with the force of his orgasm, bracing one hand on the ground next to Tony’s head as he felt like his entire body was turned inside out through his cock, long white stripes stringing over Tony’s stomach, his pectorals, the cool blue light of the reactor. It was that last that made Steve shudder, eyes closing briefly because it was just too much. The reactor was Tony’s life, his heart, metaphorical and physical, and to have it marked like that…

“Tony,” he gasped, ducking his head down for a messy kiss, and Tony purred into his mouth.

“Mmm, gorgeous,” Tony hummed. “Satisfied?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Steve panted, caught between laughter and breathlessness. “Jesus.”

“I didn’t do anything at all this time,” Tony protested, and Steve couldn’t help but lean in and kiss that stunning grin of his. “You didn’t let me.”

“You did plenty,” Steve said warmly, leaning in to kiss him again. “Mm. God, I just want to lie here on top of you.”

“Nope,” Tony said, immediately shoving at Steve’s shoulder. “Red, hard limit, safeword. I refuse to have Natasha walk in on us stuck together by your cum in the middle of the sparring mats. I value my life. I do not consent.”

Steve laughed, rolling over onto his back and dropping a hand over his eyes. “Okay. Then I’ll just lie here alone, and you can go get cleaned up.”

“As much as I’d love to leave you to your fate, I’d miss that sweet little ass of yours,” Tony said, mock-mournfully. He pushed himself to sitting, and Steve cracked one eye open to watch as a few heavy droplets of his cum dripped over the lines of Tony’s abs, down towards his thighs. He couldn’t help but lick his lips, and it was only Tony’s sharp whistle that brought him back to himself. “Oy, my eyes are up here.”

Steve let himself look for a few obvious seconds longer, trailing his gaze slow as a caress up to finally meet Tony’s eyes. In contrast to his words, his expression was delighted, even a little shocked. Steve grinned lazily at him.

“The depths of your depravity amaze me every time,” Tony said, shaking his head. “Come on, stud, let’s go. Maybe if you’re good we can have another round in the shower.”

Steve blushed a little at the endearment, and Tony laughed outright. “Wow, you’re fine with comeplay but I call you stud and suddenly you’re the All-American boy scout again.”

“It’s just…what that means-”

“Do you see how much come I’m covered in?” Tony demanded. “I am not about to sit here and debate your virility right now. You are literally engineered to be the peak of human perfection. Now get that smoking hot ass of yours up, and help me get clean.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve drawled, and rolled to stand in a move that was more to show off for Tony than representative of how steady his legs felt just then. He pulled Tony to standing, then traced his fingers through the mess on Tony’s stomach, rubbing his thumb against his slick fingertips and biting his lip.

“It’s like dating a teenager,” Tony said, but he was laughing. He hooked an arm around Steve’s and dragged him towards the gym showers. “Come on, pretty boy.”

“I’m a centenarian,” Steve protested, but he let himself be led, grinning like a dope.

It was very hard to think about anything else after that, especially when Tony tonguefucked him in the shower, and then Steve carried him up to the penthouse, and, well. He could be forgiven, he thought, for forgetting all about the conversation that had started everything. It hadn’t seemed important, in the face of Tony’s undivided attention.

It wasn’t until later, after Tony had slipped out of bed to head down to the workshop and Steve had woken up alone that he’d really thought about what Tony had said.

 _Please,_ as though the very idea was ridiculous, _we’re not even out._ More accurately, Steve wasn’t even out. Tony had been outed in the papers when he was a teenager in college, and he’d never tried to hide himself since. He was unabashed. He’d even been called lurid. He was unapologetically himself, all of the time.

 _Is that all he’s waiting for?_ had been Steve’s first thought. And then: _Is that what I want?_

—

It was legal, now, and it wasn’t even that controversial. Steve didn’t know what he was waiting for. It wasn’t like Tony would have stopped him, if he wanted to come out. He was sure Tony would love a chance to brag about him, in fact. He did it to Clint all the damn time, mostly to irritate him. Clint pretended to think they were gross, and Tony pretended to be offended. It was a weird bonding thing. Steve didn’t get it, but he did think it was kinda cute.

That had been in early October, before the Halloween party where Tony dressed up as Sexy Captain America; they barely lasted an hour before Steve had to do something about the only-partially-sexual urge to drag him up to the penthouse and take the costume apart with his teeth. Steve wasn’t so good about managing his attraction to Tony, but in his defence, Tony was a terrible enabler. The point being, he’d been far too distracted by Tony’s…everything, and now it was almost time. The holiday party was next week, and Steve was just now cottoning on to the fact that his mind had played a terrible trick on him. Where before he’d been fine with the idea, used to Tony flirting with people at parties and taking beautiful friends and business associates on ambiguously intimate outings to help maintain a façade of professional camaraderie and healthy male friendship between them, now he wasn’t so sure. They’d gone to enough parties, restaurants, and shows together that the papers had dubbed them “NYC’s FAV BROTP” and “SuperBros.” Steve had seen little hug-and-fly salt and pepper shakers that magnetise in the windows of the tourist traps that line Times Square, alongside little flying-on-a-string Thor machines, and wall-climbing Spiderman toys.

He’d googled celebrity coming-outs— _Was that the proper terminology?_ —and seen everything from Ellen Page’s dramatic speech to Lace Bass’ surprisingly casual interview with Rosie O’Donnell. He knew that Tony had never really come out, either, just let himself be photographed with whoever he was with at the time and told anyone who tried to disapprove where to stuff it. Steve liked that approach, mostly because the idea of someone asking him about his sexual preferences made something squirm unpleasantly inside his stomach. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, or embarrassed, but mostly that he didn’t feel it was anyone else’s business. If he could step out with Tony and have no one say anything about it besides how good they looked together, it would have never been a problem. It was the people who would make nasty comments about their sex life, about how him engaging in anal sex must make him unfit to be Captain America, as though somehow he hadn’t been queer the whole time.

Worst of all was the knowledge that there was nothing more appetising to the press than the ability to trash Tony Stark for something. He didn’t want to be weaponised against Tony, used to paint him as a corrupting influence. He didn’t want to be the reason that they trotted out the long line of photos and videos of Tony in varying compromising positions, almost always taken and posted without his consent. Tony shrugged that kind of thing off like water off a duck’s back, but Steve could see the tightness around the corners of his mouth when the paparazzi were waiting outside the tower with some salacious detail to shout about. It got tiring, after a while, even for a pro like Tony, to let them prick their claws in and take whatever they wanted.

 _But._ There were downsides, to having to wear a disguise if he wanted to hold Tony’s hand in public. When he and Tony went to the theatre, and Tony looked so good that the desire to lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth was so strong it was like a physical need, Steve had been forced to wait until they’d gotten home. He’d taken Tony apart so thoroughly that he hadn’t been able to stand under his own power in the morning, and Steve had carried him to the bath and washed him from head to toe with slow, worshipful strokes, because Tony never let Steve take care of him the way Steve wanted to. Tony deserved that much. He deserved for everyone to know exactly how well he was loved, and how beautiful he was, and that Tony was more than deserving of Captain America’s friendship— _so stuff it, Bill O’Reilly—_ and love and regard. He wanted everyone to know that Tony was his, but more importantly he thought, he was Tony’s.

He wanted to marry him.

“Christ,” Steve whispered, wiping a hand over his face. Too late, he remembered he’d been working with pastels, the viscous oil smearing down the side of his face. “Damn.”

“Are you alright, Captain?” JARVIS asked, and Steve blinked his eyes a few times, coming back to himself. He’d been working in his studio, like he always did when he needed to get his head on straight and the gym was occupied. Clint and Natasha had been sparring last he’d checked, and so he’d opted to come upstairs and work instead. He was giving Tony a drawing, because he’d learned over the years that it was impossible to shop for a billionaire who just bought whatever he and his friends wanted at the barest hint that they might want it. It was better to give Tony experiences that he wouldn’t think to try, or objects without value. The first year they’d been dating, Steve had given Tony a little booklet of couple coupons he spotted in a store. They were for things like a massage, or a bubble bath, or trying something new in the bedroom. That last had made him blush, but Tony had laughed brightly as he’d flipped through them, grinning when he saw the ones Steve had added: one instance of no nagging when Tony had been injured in battle, the ability to use Steve to lift heavy things in the workshop when he needed a little more finesse than the bots could manage, a few hours with the shield for Tony to scan and poke at as much as he liked.

“Captain?”

Steve swallowed, glancing sheepishly up at the security cameras. “I’m a little shocked at myself,” Steve admitted. JARVIS didn’t reply, likely because there wasn’t a good response to that. “Um. Okay. Can I ask you something, and have you…not tell Tony?”

“That would depend on the nature of the question,” JARVIS said, sounding more puzzled than anything else.

“If I wanted his ring size,” Steve said, knowing JARVIS was smart enough to figure out what that meant immediately.

There was a pause, just long enough for Steve to notice, before JARVIS spoke again. “Should I presume that you are asking for the ring size for the third finger of Sir’s left hand?” The AI’s voice possessed a warmth that made Steve smile, a bit of pressure burgeoning in his chest because, _Oh_. He was doing this.

“Yeah.”

“Sir has smaller hands, and somewhat slim fingers compared to the average European-American man. His ring size is recorded as an 8.5, although if I may, 8.75 would probably fit better. A 9 falls off, so he generally goes smaller when in doubt.” Steve nodded. “Should I…bring up a list of Sir’s preferred jewellers?”

“Does he have somebody he really likes to work with?” Steve asked, because now that he thought about it, of course Tony would have a jewellery guy.

“He does. I have texted the address to your phone. I’m afraid that the man is somewhat old-fashioned, and it is best to speak to him in person. Josef Moretti has been working out of a shop on Canal Street since 1956.”

“Of course he has,” Steve said, laughing. Giddiness was building up inside of him now, a strange joy that he couldn’t begin to cover up if he tried. “Alright. Well. Um. I guess I better get changed and go, huh?”

“He works until 4 PM,” JARVIS said helpfully, and Steve nodded. He wiped his hands on a rag. “If I may, Captain, you have a streak of bright blue on your right cheek.”

Steve grinned. “You’re amazing, JARVIS. You know that, right?”

“I do my best.”

—

“I didn’t think the Intrepid was going to fit all these people,” Bruce admitted, glaring out at the crowd.

Steve placed a gentle hand between Bruce’s shoulder blades. He knew that the man hadn’t even wanted to come, but Bruce, like Steve, was weak to Tony’s charms. As a rule, someone tried to stay with him at all times: not because they didn’t trust Bruce, but because Bruce didn’t trust himself and he felt safer with one of the Avengers. “You’re okay.”

“For now,” Bruce countered, but he settled under Steve’s palm. He turned to glance at Steve out of the corner of his eye. “Wanna find some tiny plates of even tinier food with me?”

“Deal,” Steve said, grinning. They made their way through the glimmering crowd, Steve’s eyes skimming over sequined mermaid-tail dresses and suits in bold, bright geometric prints. Bruce had gone for plain black, but Tony’s tailor had insisted that it was a crime to put Steve in anything but a beautiful, deep blue tux that made Steve think of storms and ocean water. He felt good in it, and he smoothed his fingers over one black silk lapel with a little smile. Tony would be proud, that Steve was finally getting used to being spoiled.

They found Thor, predictably, by the refreshments table. Waiters moved through the room with platters, but here there were all sorts of plates full of things that Steve couldn’t identify. He went for what was clearly fish and cheese on a cracker, popping the whole thing in his mouth and watching Thor charm a whole group of SI employees with effortless charm.

“He’s a natural,” Bruce muttered. He only sounded a little bitter. “This is amazing, by the way. I don’t even know what it is. It’s like foie gras, but foam.”

“Do you see Tony at all?” Steve asked, taking one of the recommended appetisers and humming in surprise at the taste. It was both sweet and savoury, some sort of compote mixed in with the musk of organ meat. Tony always went a little crazy at his parties, and the SI Holiday Party was notoriously extravagant. Apparently there were even celebrities who wanted in, but Tony was pretty firm about the fact that this was for the employees. They even had a little red carpet with professional photographers, so everyone could come and pose and get their photo taken. It was sweet, watching groups of awkward coders posing together in their fanciest clothes. Tony could be so sweet.

“It’s almost time,” Bruce said. “He’s probably backstage with Pepper.”

Steve nodded, fingering the little box in his pocket. It had been short notice, at the height of the holiday season, but as soon as Joe knew what Steve wanted the ring for, he’d insisted. The holidays were the best time for proposals, Joe’d told him, very serious. He wanted Steve to know that he was a personal fan of the Rockefeller Center proposal, himself. Steve didn’t really have a plan, yet, but he figured he’d keep it with him. He’d know the right moment when it happened.

As soon as he’d held the ring in his hands, gold titanium alloy inset with a single round ruby, any doubts Steve had held before fled like shadows from the midday sun. His anxieties about Tony’s SI date had lessened as well. The band was smooth, the stone set back so that nothing stuck out to catch on the armour or get in the way of Tony working. He knew that Tony would probably have to take it off with regularity; all of the factory workers Steve had known had kept their rings on a chain. So Steve had bought a sturdy chain, too, coiled up in the bottom of the box under the little ring pedastal.

“Are you…worried?” Bruce asked, and in his mouth the word clearly meant jealous.

“I was,” Steve admitted. He shrugged, putting a little fruit tart in his mouth. Everything tasted amazing. He just wished it wasn’t so small.

“Not anymore?” Bruce pressed, and Steve glanced over at him. Bruce looked a little worried, sympathetic, and Steve relaxed under his gaze.

“Not really.”

Bruce nodded, then turned back to the table. “Can you see if those curry puffs have beef in them?”

“I think it’s chicken,” Steve said, but did as he was told. Bruce had spent a long time living in Hindu communities, and generally avoided beef when possible. “Yeah, it’s chicken.”

Before Bruce could take one of the pastries in question, the lights dimmed. A voice came over the speakers, one that Steve recognised from repeated exposure as the lead singer of AC/DC. As the song played, the crowd shuffled upstairs towards the space shuttle, everyone packing in tight. Tony would be making the raffle announcement up there, mostly to give the main act time and space to breathe during set up on the main floor.

“Jesus,” Steve muttered. “Maybe we should stay here.”

“Friend Steve,” Thor called, and Steve turned around, startled. He’d forgotten Thor was nearby. “I shall stay with the good doctor, if you would like to make your way upstairs.” He grinned. “I am large, and space is limited.”

“I don’t-” Steve tried, but neither man was having any of it.

“You want to see who gets picked, don’t you?” Bruce asked, mindful of the ears around him. “It’s okay.”

 Steve wet his lips, thinking for a minute. He glanced towards the stairs. “Okay.”

“Go on,” Thor said, taking a long draught from whatever drink he was holding, and Steve nodded and headed for the stairs.

It was a bit of a crush, but this was the one case where his celebrity helped. If he walked with authority, people assumed that there was a reason he was headed somewhere, and generally the crowd parted for him. A few younger SI employees took photos as he went by, and while usually he would be happy to shake hands and pose for selfies, Bruce was right. He wanted to see who got to take Tony out on a date this year. He’d feel a lot better if it was some old guy in a sweater, or a gawky intern that was mostly elbows. Steve rarely got that lucky, but a man could hope.

Over the speaker system, he could hear AC/DC crooning “I want a mistress for Christmas” over and over, and he shook his head as he crested the top of the stairs. Leave it to Tony to pick a song like that. As he made his way through the crowd, the bodies began to get more and more packed, until finally Steve was forced to come to a standstill some good thirty feet from the walkway above the space shuttle where Tony was standing and chatting with Pepper. He looked incredible, decked out in a dark red tux that gleamed with a subtle floral design as he moved in it, and as Steve watched he turned to face the crowd with a wide grin.

“So, first off,” Tony said, voice amplified over the speaker system, “sorry about the heteronormativity. Gentleman, you all know I’m more than happy to entertain you as well.”

A bubble of laughter, some applause. Steve grinned a little, himself, but he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt, too. He wanted to be up there, with Tony. He wanted to be able to say something like that and have it be that easy.

“I know you’ve gotten spoiled, what with the other Avengers picking up the slack—you know me, anything to get out of doing my real job and go blow something up instead,” more laughter, “but Miss Potts insisted, so here I am. I know I’m no Thor, but just remember, he’s married, and I’m unattached.” Tony lifted left hand, wiggling his fingers, and Steve swallowed heavily. It was almost like Tony _knew_. The crowd was cheering, a single loud ‘we love you’ bursting out, and Tony turned his head to offer a wink to the culprit.

“Buy me dinner first!” he called. “Or, well, I guess let me buy you dinner, huh? Now, Miss Potts, what’s our lucky number?”

“As you know,” Pepper took over smoothly, “all entrants’ employee ID numbers have been entered into a program that will make a completely randomised choice. Now, once the program produces your number, we’ll match that against the SI database and follow it up with a name. Please make your way to the front if you hear your number and name called.”

“Are you ready?” Tony called, grinning, and Steve took a deep breath as Tony raised a remote and a projection appeared on the wall behind him and Pepper. A series of eight zeros flickered, flashed, and then they were cycling, random numbers appearing and disappearing until they stopped on an unlikely combination: 00000007.

There were a few confused murmurs. Tony scratched the side of his jaw. “Uh, that can’t be right,” he said, sounding a little baffled, even as his name appeared on the projection under the number. “Um. So, that’s _my_ employee ID number…”

“Tony,” Pepper began, sounding exasperated, and the entire room burst into laughter.

“Hey! This is totally a Harry Potter moment,” Tony said, holding his hands up. “I did not put my name into the Goblet of Fire. On my honour.”

“Have you got any of that left?” Pepper sniped, to a series of hoots. “I guess we can run it again…”

“No, but, how did that even happen?” Tony asked, staring up at the screen. “That- that doesn’t make any _sense_.”

“Well, you can’t go on a date with yourself,” Pepper agreed, to another round of laughs, and, _Oh_.

“I’ll do it,” Steve heard himself call out, as if from very far away. A few people near him turned around, laughing. There were a few delighted claps, even as some employees looked genuinely put out. “I’m an Avenger.”

Pepper hadn’t heard him, but it seemed Tony had. He’d turned around with a gapemouthed expression on his face, and now the crowd was parting for him as he stepped forward.

“Steve?” Tony said, sounding baffled, but there was something else there, too. He sounded hopeful, almost, and Steve grinned as he reached the side of the platform. He jumped and grabbed onto the railing to thunderous applause, instead of trying to work his way through another fifteen feet of crowd to reach the stairs. When he’d swung himself over the side, Pepper and Tony were both gawking at him, the former looking a little charmed while the latter looked mostly like he was caught between flight and fight. His eyes were wide and wild in his face, almost amber in the force of the lights trained on him.

“Steve, what are you doing?” Pepper murmured under her breath, a serene publicity smile painting itself over her face. “You’ve always refused to… do the raffle.”

“Sure,” Steve said, not bothering to lower his voice. Some of the people near the stage were beginning to whisper to themselves excitedly, but that was alright. Steve was sure the reaction would only get bigger. “But now I know the date’ll be with Tony.”

There were a few scattered laughs, more confused than truly amused. A spate of whispers broke out anew.

“Did you plan this?” Tony asked, sounding equal parts dismayed and impressed, and Steve grinned at him. Tony seemed resigned to whatever Steve’s plan was, anxiety slowly being replaced with a quiet, fierce kind of joy. The sight of his crinkling crow’s feet made Steve step close, within touching distance. He wanted to kiss them.

“Hi, Tony,” he said.

“Hello, Steve,” Tony deadpanned, voice still broadcasting through the speakers via his earpiece. “Fancy meeting you here.”

The crowd laughed, but mostly people seemed to be holding their breath. SI employees were a lot of things, but stupid was generally not one of them. They knew this was going somewhere good.

“I know we’ve already been dating for years now,” he began, projecting loud enough that Tony’s mic picked up his voice. Gasps and delighted shouts echoed throughout the room, but Steve wasn’t finished. He reached out to brush a gentle thumb over the crinkled corner of Tony’s eye. “So maybe it’s selfish to want to take this one too, but.”

And then he got to one knee, and the screaming grew so loud that Steve’s ears rang painfully. Pepper’s entire face drained of colour, and she turned around and pulled her phone out, dialling and putting it to her ear. She was likely already on damage control. Hundreds of employees had pulled out their phones, probably livestreaming to the internet, but Steve couldn’t care less about any of that. (Okay, maybe he was a little sorry for Pepper.) He could hear multiple people yelling “is this real?” and “oh my god,” a chorus of joyful incredulity to buoy him.

Tony’s entire face had gone slack, even the smile slipping from his face. He looked like a storm had whipped through and taken everything he knew from under him, and Steve didn’t much like that look. “Tony? Tell me if I’ve got this all wrong.”

Tony shook his head, blinking rapidly, and Steve grinned at him. “Okay, Shellhead,” he said, and now that he was smiling he couldn’t stop. The smile that Tony offered him in return was wobbly, but filled with a hesitant wonder that made Steve feel like he was going to split open, sunlight spilling out of his chest. “You’re my partner. I don’t trust anyone else to have my back, on and off the field. The idea of the world not knowing that for one second longer, of anyone looking at us and not knowing that we belong to each other, well.” Steve licked his lips, then laughed at himself. “I lied to you, Tony. It was bothering me something terrible thinking about you going on a date with somebody else. I kept picturing some computer genius, who could understand when you went on about the issues you’d been having with the inner wiring of your elbow joint, who could ask all the right questions. I didn’t think I was jealous, but I was wrong. I don’t want to share you anymore.”

The crowd had hushed a bit to catch Steve’s words, and he could feel heat rushing up the back of his neck, but it was too late to stop now. He’d already gotten this far.

“You planned that pretty well, then,” Tony laughed, and his eyes were shining, bright bottle-glass in the spotlights. A few people whooped their agreement. “I don’t think anyone in their right mind is gonna fight Captain America for me.”

“I would!” someone shouted, to a series of loud cheers and jeers. Tony startled, as though he’d forgotten their audience, before a wry smile slipped over his face.

“That person is clearly not in their right mind,” he deadpanned. The crowd cackled. “You know this is gonna be front page tomorrow, Cap.”

“Good,” Steve said, and he was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Well?” Tony prompted. “Are you gonna ask me? Is there a ring?”

“Oh,” Steve said, flushing. He fumbled it out of his pocket, opening the box and offering it to Tony with a bashful expression. “I…I went to your jeweller. I mean, JARVIS sent me- Uh. Joe said you’d love it-”

“I do love it,” Tony said, but his voice was impatient now, and Steve laughed helplessly at that. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you going to ask me to marry you, or should I run this program again?”

“You’re ruining my proposal,” Steve complained.

“You’re ruining my holiday party,” Tony countered, and that- that was just. Steve grabbed Tony’s hand, pressing a fervent kiss to his knuckles to a chorus of whistling and laughter.

“Marry me,” he whispered against Tony’s knuckles. “Please. I’ve been thinking about it since you asked about the party, in October, and-”

“Louder.”

Steve blinked, tilting his head up to look at Tony, and his face was all joy and brightness. “Marry me, Anthony Edward Stark,” he said, and his voice was firm, loud, filled with laughter. “Marry me, and make me impossibly happier than you already do.”

“That’s not a question, it’s an order,” Tony said, but he was taking the ring from the box and sliding it on his finger. “You’re always so bossy.”

“You’re always impertinent,” Steve said, and then he was standing, scooping Tony into his arms and spinning him in a circle to raucous applause, pressing kisses all over his face as he squirmed in Steve’s grip. “Well?”

“You didn’t ask me,” Tony said, stubborn as ever. His arms were wrapped around Steve’s neck and his mouth tasted like happiness and champagne and canapés.

“Will you marry me?” Steve recited dutifully, kissing Tony’s brow, his crinkled eyes, the corner of his mouth and everyone was watching and cheering and nothing was better than this.

“Yes,” Tony said simply, and Steve lifted him up above his head by the waist and watched him laugh and thought, _Yes_. _Yes, this man, until death pulls us apart, and after. This man, forever._

Even forever didn’t feel like it could be long enough.

—

Later, much later—after the party made it to full swing, and Natasha graciously offered herself for another raffle date; after Thor challenged a group of techbros to a drinking contest and one of them had to be hospitalised; after Tony and Steve received so many heartfelt congratulations that Steve couldn’t imagine anything any news anchor had to say to him ruining this bright, fierce joy within; after Steve had taken Tony home and let Tony wreck him so thoroughly that he forgot his name—Steve found himself alone in his studio once more.

It was a few days ‘til Christmas proper. Tony’s gift was almost finished, but Steve didn’t think that either of them could really top the gift they’d already given each other. Still, there was one last person he’d callously forgotten all about until recently, and he had no idea what to get them.

“JARVIS,” Steve said, evenly enough as he set up his pastels. “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t even get you anything.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Captain.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve said, uncovering Tony’s present. It was an image of him and Steve in the workshop, Tony explaining the basic theory of wormholes to him complete with holographic aids. Tony’s expression was rapt, full of manic joy the way he always was when he was caught up in something, but Steve was just staring at him with stars in his eyes. His expression was transparent, smitten. He looked so in love, and it was this that he wanted Tony to see. He wanted Tony to know how much he was cherished, how beautiful he was when he was happy and excited, how much Steve loved him.

“You have already provided me with an invaluable gift, Captain, as you have for the past two years,” JARVIS said. “You do not need to give me anything else.”

“And what gift is that?” Steve asked, leaning in to add a bit of backlight from the shine of the reactor to the bottom of Tony’s chin.

“The securement of Sir’s happiness and wellbeing,” JARVIS said, and Steve froze, lifting his hand gently away from the page to prevent an accident. JARVIS’ voice was warm, filled with contentment, and Steve could feel his throat clog. He hadn’t cried during his engagement, but he certainly wanted to now.

“I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled, turning his face up to face the closest security camera. He felt raw, scraped open, and he felt he owed it to JARVIS to let the AI see how much he was feeling. “You’ve been taking care of him for so long, way before I was in the picture. It’s an honour, to hear that from you.”

“May I at last offer my sincere congratulations on your impending nuptials, Captain?”

Steve nodded. He blinked a few times, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist. “Thank you, JARVIS.”

“You are most welcome, Captain.” And then, “you have blue on your cheekbone, again.”

Steve laughed. He closed his eyes, and felt happiness and home settle over his shoulders like a thick woollen blanket.

“That’s alright,” Steve said, turning back to his drawing. “It’s Tony’s blue. I’m happy to wear it.”

The trials were yet to come, he knew. He hadn’t checked the news yet, and he couldn’t imagine the mess that the tabloids would have made of the situation already. He’d already apologised to Pepper, but her expression had been nothing but kind when she’d kissed his cheek and whispered her congratulations. Still, he knew that was where Tony was now: meeting with SI’s PR team, trying to figure out what their next steps were, and probably gossiping with Pepper a little about the proposal. The thought made him smile.  Whatever it was, he wasn’t worried. He could handle it. They could handle it, together.

On the page, Tony’s hand waved towards a projection, fingers curving around some point or another. Steve bit his lip, then put the blue back and reached for a strong marigold yellow. Then he set about adding a ring to Tony’s finger, because he could.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun with this one. Hoping y'all felt the same way!
> 
> I actually wrote this a bit before Christmas, when holiday fluff was a little more apropos. Forgive me for it now being a bit out of season. ^__^"
> 
> Small Plug: I am participating in the Fandom Trumps Hate Auction this year! If any of y'all want a fic and to donate to a good cause, the minimum bid for a work from me is $5. The more $ given, the bigger a fic I'm willing to write, and also maybe toss in some fanart! If that interests you, check out the listing [here](https://fth2019offerings.dreamwidth.org/tag/username:+haemodye).


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